Mercy Me by Margaret A. Graham Page B

Maude’s grave.
    â€œWe’ve already checked,” she told me. “So far there’s been no sign of grave robbers. Has Beatrice called?”
    â€œNot yet,” I said and hung up. I knew Thelma was disappointed not to have any further news to spread around.
    The phone didn’t ring until after six o’clock. When it did, it made me jump, and my heart started beating fast. It was Beatrice.
    â€œEsmeralda, they’ve caught two suspects, but they weren’t wearing masks, so they’re probably not the real robbers.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? They wouldn’t be wearing masks except when they’re holding up a store.”
    â€œDon’t worry me with details, Esmeralda. I’m too nervous to live, much less think straight. I’ve broke out in a rash that is itching me to death. I’ve got more on me than a body can take, what with murderers on the loose and them two upstairs. Last night he left, slammed the door on his way out, stomped down the stairs, and left her bawling upstairs. I could hear her on the phone to her mama. He don’t come home until the wee hours. I can’t put up with much more of this. I tell you, Esmeralda, I have about had it. I might just as well give up this job, move back to Live Oaks, and get set up in the county home.”
    â€œNow, Beatrice, you’re overreacting. Calm down. Those gunmen are behind bars, and as for the situation upstairs, there is no reason why that has to go on forever. Just give me a little time, and I’ll think of something. Right now, we got to take care of that itch.”
    The phone cord was all kinked up again, but this was no time to try to unkink it. She was historical. “They may be behind bars, but you know our court system lets criminals go scot-free. Our jails have got swinging doors! I’m about to have a nervous breakdown, Esmeralda. I can’t go on like this.”
    â€œYes, you can. Now get hold of yourself!”
    â€œGet hold of myself? How can I? I come to work, and first thing happens is that termite man. He gets his coffee, then comes up to the counter and hangs around—readsthe warning on the cig pack, puts it down, says he don’t smoke, as if that mattered to me. Told me his name, Carl something-or-other, as if I wanted to know. Then he starts with the questions: Do I like to go to picture shows? Do I like to bowl? All he gets out of me is a grunt, and I keep so busy behind the counter that I do everything twice that can be done.”
    She was running on at the mouth like a floodgate let loose. I had to stop her somehow.
    â€œBeatrice, have you forgot what I told you when this thing first happened?”
    â€œWhat about?”
    â€œAbout the Lord protecting you.”
    â€œNo, I have not forgot, but I don’t understand why I should fear God. He’s the onliest one I am not afraid of.”
    Oh, my, I thought. How in the world can I ever get through to her on that? I took a deep breath. “Beatrice, to fear God don’t mean what you think. When you are not so nervous and we can sit down and talk about that, I’ll try to explain it. It’ll take a lot of time for me to get through to you, but I think I can do it.”
    â€œWhat about the angels? Do you think when I’m in that store, there’s a flock of angels around me?”
    That made me squirm a bit. “Who needs angels,” I said, “when we have got Jesus? When angels aren’t praising the Lord, all they do is run errands. People who don’t know the first thing about Jesus have gone crazy over angels. You have got Jesus. He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
    It was the best I could do under the circumstances. And it was the truth.
    Beatrice heaved a big sigh. “Esmeralda,” she said, “I don’t mean to complain. I am thankful to the Lord they caught suspects, but this rash is itching me so bad, I am about to go out of my